


Meeting a Need

by Unfeathered



Series: Connection [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: BDSM, BDSM Scene, Consensual Kink, Crossover, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Honour Bondage, Light BDSM, M/M, Mild Kink, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23718160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unfeathered/pseuds/Unfeathered
Summary: Jack's back in Westbury, with a rather specific request
Relationships: Rupert Giles/Jack Harkness
Series: Connection [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1584910
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Meeting a Need

**Author's Note:**

> I began this waaay back in late 2007 as the 'and then they had sex' follow-up to _Connection_. Then I realised that major kink felt like rather a big step for the two of them to take on that first night, from where they'd got to at the end of the first part, and then other fics got in the way and it never got finished, although I did add ficlets set later in the same 'verse. Then I looked at it again recently and discovered I could make it work much better by moving it on to a few weeks later rather than the same night, and finally introduce the D/s dynamic into their relationship properly so it makes more sense when it crops up in the later ficlets! Of course, that meant totally rewriting most of it, but that's how it goes, isn't it? :-D
> 
> Thank you to [vae](https://vae.dreamwidth.com/) for the fantastic beta!

To Giles' delight, Jack returns to Westbury several times in fairly quick succession after that first night. It's only a couple of hours' drive from Cardiff, after all, and Jack seems to like what he's found there. They drink whisky together, they listen to music and they talk – Giles tells him about Watchers and vampires and demons, and about Buffy and the other friends he's left behind in California, and in time he's rewarded by Jack opening up a little more about himself and talking about a man called the Doctor and a girl called Rose and a blue box that travels through time and space. Enough for them both to fill in some gaps and understand what the other needs, because it's very much the same thing for both of them – to talk, to drink, listen to music, make love… to _connect_. They've found something here that neither of them seem to have found anywhere else in far too long, and it's too good not to make the most of it while they can.

Jack's fifth visit is different. They still talk, and drink, and listen to music, but there's something decidedly antsy and distracted about Jack this evening, and eventually Giles decides that rather than dancing around it all night he needs to address it and get it out of the way.

"Is everything all right?" he asks, his tone mild but something deceptively dry behind it. It's not the gentle, worried tone of his first evening with Jack; it's the sort of tone he used to use when Buffy's mind was clearly somewhere other than whatever important information he was trying to relay to her.

Well, if Jack's going to fidget like a teenager with a one-track mind, why not treat him like one? Old habits die hard, after all.

The tone pulls Jack up short and he gives Giles a quick, surprised look, which rapidly slides into a wry, very-slightly-embarrassed smile. "Am I being that obvious?" he asks, the smile widening into a grin and a twinkle appearing in those bluer than blue eyes.

Giles just lifts an eyebrow and waits, though he makes sure the expression in his eyes is warm.

Jack _laughs_ , and raises his hands slightly in surrender. Whisky sloshes in his glass and he pauses to set it down on the table beside him then leans forward slightly, bare forearms on his spread knees as he looks at Giles, the grin sliding away.

"There's something I've been hankering after, for a while now. Something I've been wondering if you could give me."

He meets Jack's gaze, calm and patient. "Yes?" He has a faint inkling where this might be heading, but he's not going to pre-empt anything. For one thing, he might be totally wrong, and that could make things very awkward.

Jack's gaze is intent and focussed, a complete contrast to the grin he was wearing a moment before. "I live a really high-stress lifestyle. Sometimes I just need to escape. Be taken out of myself, shoved _down_ , made to stop still and just… be." His lips twitch, but the blue eyes don't waver. "It's been ages since I've found a good Dom, someone who could really take me down and make me stay down. But I think you might just be the guy."

It's as direct and to the point as only Jack can be (as a total contrast to those times when he's deliberately trying to prevaricate and deflect) and for a moment it takes Giles' breath away and the wind out of his sails. Only for a second, at the end of which he realises he's sitting there gawping at Jack and he deliberately looks away, picking up his glass and taking a good sip of whisky to give himself a moment to process.

When he looks up again, Jack's watching him with a smug, self-satisfied smile, and you know what? Jack might just be right. He might have come to precisely the right place for what he wants. He certainly needs _someone_ slap him down, the way he's acting. And, all right, it's been a while for him too (probably far longer than it has been for Jack, considering the knowledge he's gathered about Jack's proclivities) but as he's just realised it's not really that different from handling Buffy and her friends – or, god forgive him for the comparison, Spike.

He finishes his drink and puts the glass down steadily on the table, then he straightens slightly and looks back at Jack. "Yes," he says coolly, and the more he thinks about this idea, the more he likes it. "Yes, I think I might be 'the guy'." He quirks an eyebrow. "Shall we take this upstairs?"

* * *

He's taken Jack up to his bedroom a couple of times since that first night (when they never made it further than the living room) and Jack seems more than comfortable heading up there now, but this time Jack pauses deferentially outside the door, to let him enter first. Giles approves and gives him a fleeting smile as he passes Jack into the room and crosses to switch on the bedside lights and the soft reading lamp on the other side of the room. He takes his time, using the opportunity to compose himself and sort through the multitudes of ideas that are already flitting round his mind. There are _so_ many things he'd like to do with Jack, and now the gate's been opened, it's going to be hard to pick just one.

He looks back at Jack from the bedside. In the softer lighting, and against the brighter light from the hall, Jack looks even more handsome than ever and, if it weren’t for their previous encounters, Giles might have doubted what attraction someone like himself might hold for someone like Jack. But the attraction has _definitely_ been there from the start, complemented now by clear interest in where they might take their relationship tonight.

"Come on in, Jack," he says warmly, with a broad, welcoming gesture that encompasses the whole room – big but not grand, furnished practically and comfortably and with what Giles would like to think of as some style. Antique furniture, sage green bedspread and curtains, fawn walls and a large wool rug covering most of the old oak floorboards between the door and the bed. The bed is an oversized, mahogany affair brought back from India by his grandfather, its high bedposts knobbly with intricate patterns, burnished and softened by generations of handling.

Jack smiles and ambles in, and Giles enjoys the sight, even as his brain whirrs away busily, working out exactly how to play this. He's a little rusty, but there are some things you never really forget. He's already standing a little taller, shoulders firmer, slipping into the role of Dominant like slipping into an old coat.

“Do we need to talk before we do this?” he asks as Jack comes to a stop before him.

Jack's hands spread in one of those instinctive gestures that seem such a part of him. He uses his hands a lot, does Jack – to emphasise, to extrapolate, to explain. Giles instantly starts thinking about what it would be like to take away his ability to do that, and how Jack might react.

"I don't think there's anything you're likely to do to me that I can't take," Jack points out, with a glimmer of wry humour.

"No, I don't suppose there is," Giles agrees dryly. He inclines his head, watching Jack, because even that flippant response tells him an awful lot about where Jack's coming from and what he thinks he needs. He still needs a few more specifics, really, in order to decide how to play this, but he's prepared to take his time and work towards what he needs to know.

He comes away from the bed and moves a few inches closer. Standing, they are the same height but, while Jack isn't losing any of the beautiful carriage Giles admires, Giles is starting to feel the taller of two.

"Do you have a safeword?" he asks because, immortality or not, playing without some kind of safety net is not something he's prepared to do.

"Green for go, yellow for pause, red for stop," Jack says promptly, with such slickness that it's fairly clear this is something he's used to spouting. Giles has his suspicions, though, that Jack doesn't actually _use_ any of those colours very often, at least those that aren't "green". That's fine for tonight – he's not anticipating going anywhere that should require the use of a safeword – but it's certainly something to watch out for. An immortal man with no intention of saying stop when he needs to could get himself into an awful lot of trouble.

But he'll be safe tonight. Giles will make sure of it.

"Thank you," he says, accepting the information and the responsibility that comes with it, and looks Jack up and down for a moment before smiling faintly. “Well, if there's nothing else, I think I’d like to see you strip for me, Jack.”

Jack, predictably, grins and his hands go to his braces, obviously preparing to flick them off his shoulders with the efficiency of long practice.

" _Slowly,_ " Giles adds, and watches Jack's smile soften as he processes the command, and alters the angle of his fingers to _slide_ the braces down, one at a time.

He strips beautifully, moving with natural grace and a flair which implies that he’s been trained in this at some point. Giles moves backwards to the bed and leans against the side of it, giving Jack space to show off his moves and his body – and he does.

When he’s finished, clothes folded neatly over the back of a nearby chair, boots neatly beneath it, Jack stands relaxed and unembarrassed, while Giles looks him over. He's seen it all before but he's never really paused at this stage of the proceedings to just drink it all in, and so he ignores Jack's eyes on his face and takes his time, assessing what he’s got to play with and reminding himself of just how lucky he is. Jack really is the perfect embodiment of male beauty. Tall and solid, well-toned muscles shifting and flexing subtly beneath the expanses of tanned, unmarked skin… When at last he raises his gaze from Jack’s body to his eyes, he discovers, with no surprise at all, that there's a hint of tease in Jack's gaze, challenging him not to like what he sees. He purses his lips slightly. That cockiness has to go. Jack’s enjoying being on display a little too much.

He stands slowly, and takes a moment to remove his glasses and place them carefully on the bedside cabinet where they won't be in the way. Then he prowls towards Jack, right up to him till he’s staring into his face, bare inches away. He gazes into the blue, blue eyes, waits until their steadiness flickers just for a second, and then says quietly, “Kneel for me, Jack.”

Jack still makes him wait a moment or two, and Giles is fairly sure it's less about reluctance than _challenging_ him, testing his resolve. He stands his ground and keeps his gaze firm, and the results he eventually gets are more than worth it. Because when Jack finally obeys the order he does so beautifully, folding his long legs elegantly beneath him and spreading his knees. He more or less has to, because Giles’ feet are between them; they're that close. Jack holds his hands at his sides and keeps his back straight and his eyes forward, which leaves him staring right at Giles’ groin. His breathing quickens as he starts to anticipate, and Giles' lips twist in brief amusement because Jack's not quite on the same page as he is. He reaches out a hand and fondles Jack's hair – lovely thick mass of hair, softly stiff with gel – and then, as Jack starts to lean in to the caress, he steps back out of range.

Jack makes a soft sound of protest and peers up through long dark lashes, looking delightfully young with his hair ruffled out of place. Giles smiles, deliberately without warmth, and walks slowly round behind him. Muscles twitch in Jack's shoulders with the instinctive desire to turn and watch him, but he suppresses them and keeps his eyes front. Giles approves. Someone has trained Jack well, and tonight he's getting to reap the benefits.

Behind Jack, Giles takes a long moment to admire the view: broad shoulders, long, straight back, slim waist, perfect backside. He imagines that handsome behind striped pink (or red, or dark purple) by his belt, imagines the golden tanned skin augmented by black rope or leather cuffs, and he asks coolly, just as Jack starts to stir, curious or impatient, “So… Jack. Do you need pain to get where you want to go tonight?”

The faint tension of uncertainty that had started to build in Jack's shoulders eases again. “No. Pain is good, but it’s not vital.”

Giles relaxes too. “Good,” he says lightly. “Because I’m not really in the mood to have to inflict it.” Another time, oh yes, he'd love to, but just for tonight he'd like to get Jack there without it, if he can.

He walks round in front of Jack again, completing the circle, because he wants to see Jack’s face. “Do you need to be tied?”

Jack lifts his gaze to Giles’ face, the flicker of a smile creasing the skin around his eyes and lips. “No. I like it, but it’s not vital either. It’s your control I want. Anything else is just a bonus.”

Hmm, just a little _too_ relaxed. A little too talkative. The smile and the confidence are very sexy, but they're not particularly submissive. Jack's doing the dance, reading the lines, and doing it charmingly, but at the moment he's mostly just acting. It's going to take a lot more than this to shove him down into proper submission, the way he asked to be shoved. This is going to need all the ruthlessness and force of will he can muster.

He takes a step backwards, studying him, looking for something – anything – he can pick Jack up on to make a point and his gaze falls on the wide band of leather round Jack's left wrist.

He lifts an eyebrow. "I thought I told you to strip."

He's not actually bothered that Jack left it on (he doesn't know what it is, but it's obvious that there's some deep sentimental value there, from the way Jack always wears it) but he needs _something_ to fault him on, and this will do the job.

Jack's mouth drops in surprise as he follows Giles' gaze down to his wrist and then flicks back up to his face. And there's a definite moment of hesitation which works beautifully for Giles' purpose.

"Jack?" he says, almost coldly, not letting any softness show in his eyes. Jack needs to know he's not going to get away with disobeying this – or anything.

Jack's chin lifts briefly, defiance flaring in his eyes. Then he swallows and looks down. "Sorry, sir," he murmurs, even as he brings his hands in front of him to unbuckle the leather strap.

He's not getting away with that one either. “I've told you before what I want you to call me, Jack," Giles says dryly, "and ‘sir’ isn’t it. Try again.”

Jack catches his breath, pausing with the buckle half-open, and blue eyes fly up to his face. Giles feels a trifle penitent. 'Sir' is a perfectly reasonable honorific to expect to use in this situation; he's just being picky, because he _can_.

And because he needs Jack to work with him here.

Jack does. He takes it in his stride with characteristic ease – _and_ he remembers what it was that Giles had asked him to call him, back on that first night. “Sorry – Giles. Military background. ‘Sir’ is kinda habit.”

Of course. He'd forgotten that. Not that he knows any details, but the title 'Captain' is a fairly big hint. And it explains a lot. Jack's posture, his ability to follow orders, his desire _for_ orders.

Speaking of which… "The strap, Jack," he commands, holding out his hand for it and watching Jack as the strap comes loose and Jack cradles it in his two hands, thumbs stroking the worn leather. Possibly it has even more personal value than he thought. He realises he's never seen Jack take it off before.

Jack's tongue flicks out to moisten his lips. "Take care of it?" he asks, his voice not quite even, as he finally holds it out to Giles, offering it up as if it were precious gold or jewels.

Giles holds Jack's gaze steadily as he receives the gift, closing his fingers carefully over both the leather and Jack's hands, rubbing Jack's fingers briefly, reassuringly. It's obvious what a big deal this is for Jack, and he has no intention of belittling that.

"Of course," he says calmly, letting Jack's fingers slip from his, taking the strap with him. He turns and moves the few paces to put it down carefully on the bedside table beside his glasses, safely out of the way, but easily within reach if required.

"Thank you," Jack says in a low voice, his eyes following the path of the strap until Giles comes back to him, and only then lifting his gaze again. He offers a somewhat self-effacing smile and a tiny shrug. "Sorry for making a fuss. I know it's stupid, it's just that it – I—"

Giles clears his throat, interrupting. "I don't think I particularly care to hear you speak any more tonight, Jack," he says coolly, because Jack is never going to go down if he doesn't stop _talking_.

He watches the flare in Jack's eyes as he takes in the order and all its implications and then draws breath automatically, presumably to apologise. Giles lifts his eyebrows pointedly and watches Jack swallow and subside and, most importantly, _not speak_. He just nods, eyes on Giles' face, wider than they had been, paying attention.

"Good," he says, smiling thinly. "No more words, Jack. Not unless you want to say one of your safewords. You can make as many sounds as you like, but no more words."

Jack is normally extremely vocal in bed, and god forbid that he would try to stifle him entirely, but denying him words, restricting him to less structured sounds, should go some way towards helping him let go.

He reaches out to cradle Jack's jaw with his hand, and feels the slight tension in it relax at his touch. As he starts to draw it back, Jack turns his head to lay a soft kiss in the palm of his hand before turning those clear blue eyes back up to him. He shivers slightly at the sensation, and smiles warmly at the clear intent of the gesture. He learns fast, does Captain Jack Harkness. This is going to be such a pleasure.

“Well done, Jack. Stand up.”

Jack gets to his feet as gracefully as he got to his knees, and Giles rewards him by pulling him in with a hand round the back of his head for a warm kiss. There's a scant moment's pause while Jack gets his balance, and then he starts to kiss back hungrily and Giles lets him, because he's very much in favour of letting Jack communicate in any way he likes that doesn't include speech.

Until, that is, Jack's hands move from just resting lightly on his hips for stability and start instead to slide up inside his sweater, and down over the thick corduroy of his trousers. It makes his breath catch, because Jack _knows_ how to touch him now – but it's the very fact that it's _his_ breath catching rather than Jack's that makes him decide to stop it.

He pulls back from the kiss, just enough to be able to murmur against Jack's lips, "Hands at your sides, Jack. I think I want to be the only one doing the touching."

A moment, then, while Jack absorbs this. Then he lets his hands drop, but not without a quick little pinch at Giles' arse on the way.

Giles _swats_ him for that, immediately, right on the same spot on _his_ behind. Jack gasps at the sudden sting, and then flicks Giles a quick grin and straightens his back, not just letting his hands fall to his sides but _placing_ them there, posture perfect, and also very, very open. Trusting, and beautiful.

"Good boy," Giles says warmly, and pulls him in again for another kiss, harder this time, more demanding. Jack's mouth opens against his as it did before, letting him in eagerly, but this time his hands stay at his sides. To emphasise the contrast to that restraint, Giles lets _his_ hands roam over as much of Jack as he can reach, starting by stroking right over the smarting skin where he slapped him and then sliding up over that strong back and shoulders, and then down as far as he can reach over the muscular behind and thighs, enjoying the way Jack quivers and _gives_ at his touch, holding nothing back. Without his hands in on the action, all Jack can do is react, and react he does.

When he trails one finger down Jack’s spine to his arse and gets a full body shiver in response, he knows it’s time for more.

He steps back again, and Jack moans. It’s a moment before he opens his eyes, and when he does they’re dark and unfocussed.

Oh, that's better. That's so much better.

“On the bed, Captain,” Giles commands, and Jack shivers again, briefly, before obeying. He walks to the foot of the bed and crawls up onto it, stopping in the middle of it and glancing round for further instructions. Giles is surprised by the lust that jolts through him at how Jack looks like that – on hands and knees, simultaneously lean and powerful and yet surprisingly boyish, uncertain, and he smiles warmly, with anticipation.

“On your back,” he supplies, and watches as Jack rolls over onto his back and stretches out, arms relaxed at his sides, legs slightly spread, handsome cock sticking up hard and proud. It's a very, very pleasing sight.

Reluctantly, after a moment, he looks away to take off his shoes and socks and then start on the rest of his clothes. He remembers the pang he felt the first time he let Jack see him naked, feeling woefully inadequate beside Jack's embodiment of perfection. He’s fairly fit from all the fighting and training, but middle-aged spread has had its way with his stomach and everything sags more than it used to. But Jack has always made it absolutely clear that age (or at least physical age) is no obstacle whatsoever, and so he let it go, and is so very, very glad that he did.

Clothes off, he retrieves a few essentials for later from the bedside drawers, and then goes to the end of the bed. Jack's eyes follow him. He's been obediently quiet, but he hasn't stopped watching, not for a second, and Giles rather likes that, not just for the continued connection between them but for the respect and desire that it shows.

He gets up onto the bed and crawls up the length of Jack’s naked body. The tip of his cock brushes Jack’s and Jack twitches and gasps, his eyes clinging to Giles' face. Giles swoops down on those parted lips and kisses him again, hard, and as always Jack gives back what he’s given a hundred-fold. This time, Giles keeps it going until he feels Jack writhe, breathless and desperate, beneath him, and then he pulls back, breaking the contact. Breaking all contact, in fact, kneeling up over Jack, his calves astride Jack's thighs but not quite touching.

Jack makes a soft sound of protest, his eyes coming open again, face flushed with arousal, and Giles smiles down at him. "I'd like you to hold onto the headboard, Jack. Find a position that's comfortable, because you're going to be there for some time."

It's a solid headboard (no useful vertical bars, unfortunately) so that leaves Jack with two options: lift and curve his arms to grip onto the top, or curl his fingers under the base just above the mattress. Jack tries out both but plumps for the latter, as Giles expected – it will be far more comfortable to sustain. Jack slides down the mattress a little way so he can lay his arms down flat, and Giles helpfully pulls out the pillow beneath them, giving him a flat surface to rest on.

"Good," he says, looking down at Jack, enjoying the sight of him all stretched out and vulnerable, laid out for him to do what he will. There's very clear evidence, in Jack's wide, dark eyes and open, panting lips that Jack is enjoying it too.

"Now, stay still," he commands and leans down, hands splayed beside Jack's shoulders but not touching him any more than his knees are. He dips his head and kisses Jack's eyes closed again, then catches Jack's lips in a brief, teasing kiss before working his way down along Jack’s strong, smooth jaw… the long column of his neck, pulse beating thick and fast beneath his lips… collarbone… chest… nipples… He bites down on one brown nipple and feels muscles tense in Jack's arms and shoulders as he struggles not to jerk in response, and because he manages it Giles rewards him by licking it better with a teasing swirl of his tongue before travelling on down his ribs. More tension, then, in Jack's stomach muscles as Giles' mouth moves towards his cock, but he determinedly ignores it – as much as he can with it sticking up insistently bare inches from his face – and edges sideways instead to suck what will be a lovely big bruise just below the arch of Jack's hip.

Jack’s struggling to keep himself still now, the muscles of his stomach rippling with the effort, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t jerk, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t open his eyes. So very, very good. And it hits Giles, forcefully, how much he needs this. He thought he was doing this more for Jack than himself, but _god_ he's missed this. After five years of trying to look after Buffy while she challenges every order, does things her own way (admittedly often brilliantly, but it’s still infuriating – and deflating to the ego), it’s an enormous relief to be with someone who just does as they're told. No questions, no complaints, even when it’s difficult; just beautiful compliance and submission. He wonders just how far that obedience will go.

Well. There's one very easy way to find out.

Without warning, he dips his head and takes the bulbous head of Jack's cock into his mouth, lips closing tight around it, and tongue swirling generously over hot, silky skin. Jack makes a choked sound and his eyes fly open, staring down the length of his body at him, panting. Giles grins around Jack's cock and carries on with what he's doing, adding in little flicks of his tongue and slowly starting to bob up and down, taking a little more into his mouth each time.

Jack gasps and moans, and he hears the mahogany of the headboard creak as Jack's fingers tighten around it. It's a very gratifying response, especially as Jack's still managing not to speak or move, and he rewards him with his deepest dive yet, as deep as he can, the tip of Jack's cock bumping against the entrance to his throat. He's not going to give any more than that, though, not just yet, and he slowly pulls back, until his lips catch beneath the head again.

And reaches for the little tube of lubricant nestled in the bedclothes beside his hip.

Jack's eyes follow the movement of his hand, huge and dark, and an urgent shudder goes through him as he clocks what Giles is reaching for. Giles smiles wickedly, letting Jack feel his teeth for a moment, although it's as much about not letting Jack's cock slip out of his mouth while he coats his fingers as it is about threat or sensation. A quick tap with his clean hand to the insides of Jack's thighs has Jack helpfully spreading his legs and he manages to get himself settled _between_ them without having to let go of the needy flesh in his mouth. He's as impressed by that as he hopes Jack is.

Now he can let his slicked fingers slide over the soft, wrinkly skin of Jack's testicles and to the silky smooth skin that guides him downwards to the little puckered opening. Only the second time he's done this with Jack and it hasn't yet lost the excitement of newness. Nor for Jack, judging by the way the muscles down there twitch expectantly at his touch, and Giles huffs a soft laugh around Jack's cock and teases for a moment by swirling his finger round the outside of Jack's hole. Jack groans, hips lifting, and he chuckles at such blatant encouragement and finally relents and presses inside, gasping at the hot, tight grip of Jack's arse.

He spends a few minutes easing Jack open, still sucking on the head of his cock but with most of his focus on making sure Jack is as slick and loose as he needs him to be for later, when he'll want to be inside him. No _more_ open than he needs to be, though, because they'll both enjoy it more if Jack can still really feel it.

That task accomplished, he pulls his fingers out with a slurp and lifts up again, wrapping his fingers firmly around Jack's shaft to make up for the fact that he's letting the head finally slip out of his mouth.

"Jack," he says, and waits while Jack tries to focus newly opened, light-dazzled eyes on his face. "You may move now, as much as you need to in order to get what you need. I want you to keep your hands where they are, but you may move the rest of your body."

He watches Jack process the order and nod, taking in its implications far more quickly than most people would, simply because of his wealth of experience with kink, and he gives Jack a quick grin, thumb stroking reassuringly over soft, hot skin. Then he plants splayed hands very firmly on either side of Jack's hips and dives down onto Jack's cock. Jack cries out and abruptly switches from trying to relax and work with him to purely _reacting_ , shuddering and twitching as Giles methodically, one by one, uses every trick he knows to drive Jack into a helpless, writhing mess.

_Then_ , he slowly starts to lift up again, until his only contact with Jack's cock is the breath he's huffing down onto it. Jack mewls in disappointment, and Giles stays exactly where he is, mouth open still, breathing on that warm, moist skin. He waits until Jack looks at him again and then lifts an eyebrow, as if to remind him of his instructions. Confusion blooms in those beautiful blue eyes… and then Jack _gets_ it with a gusty _"Oh!"_ and lifts his hips, the tip of his cock just brushing against Giles' parted lips. They're wide enough for Jack to slip back inside, if he can just lift up far enough, and Jack groans and makes the effort, pushing upwards that extra inch or two, and Giles rewards him by closing his lips again to catch the head of his cock, generously lowering down with him as Jack flops back onto the bed and giving his cock some decent attention before eventually lifting up again.

This time, Jack catches on instantly, adjusting his grip on the headboard to give himself better leverage and then using all his muscles to lift his hips enough to fuck himself into Giles' mouth again. Far smoother and more economical movement already, and Giles is impressed. Jack really does learn fast. But this time he doesn't go back down with him when Jack's strength gives out, and Jack's eyes fly to his face, assessing and _processing_ , taking in exactly what it is Giles wants him to do.

He gives Jack one warm, encouraging smile, and then opens his mouth again, wide and inviting.

Jack pauses for a moment, gathering his strength and resolve. And then he lifts up again, cock slipping between Giles' lips, fucking his mouth and staying up there this time, as long as Jack can hold it. Giles watches the muscles of Jack's arms and stomach and legs work at not only keeping his hips up but flexing them for the extra pleasure of movement and friction, watching him tremble as his strength starts to give out but keep going for those few precious seconds more. Then he collapses, gasping for breath, and Giles smiles down at him, affectionate and approving.

"Very good, Jack. Very good. Do you think you can come like that?"

Jack's eyes go _huge_ and he hesitates for a long moment and then shakes his head. Giles waits patiently, calm and expectant, and after a few more breaths Jack shrugs, looking pleadingly up at him. Uncertain, still, but oh so willing to try, and a rush of pride goes through him at the sheer determination of this man.

Not to mention the complete and utter submission he's exhibiting. There's clearly not a single thought of trying to negotiate or coax, or safeword out of what Giles is asking of him. Jack is, most certainly, exactly where he wanted Giles to take him.

And so it goes. Giles holds himself still above Jack's hips, mouth open and ready to be fucked, lips closing and sucking as soon as there's something between them to suck, and Jack works tirelessly, sweating and straining, to get the pressure and friction his cock needs to get off.

There comes a point, though, where it becomes apparent that he's just not going to make it. He's doing admirably, but it's obvious that he's tiring fast, just as Giles' own arms and core are tiring from holding himself continuing at exactly the same height for Jack to fuck his mouth. And he's fairly sure Jack's not close enough to coming to make it before his strength gives out.

But he's done _so_ well, and really it never was as much about him actually coming from this as about making him work, and submit. And he's done that exquisitely.

So when Jack drops back down onto the bed for the fifth, or sixth (honestly, he's lost count) time with an agonised, breathless groan, he finally lets his own arms relax and gets down on his elbows instead, rolling his aching shoulders. Jack looks up at him with anxious eyes, panting desperately, and he gives Jack a warm, reassuring smile.

"All right, I think that's enough," he says, rather out of breath himself. "You've done magnificently, Jack. I think you've earned your reward."

The way that Jack shudders at this news, tears starting in his eyes and running helplessly down his cheeks, demonstrates just how completely he's gone under, desperate not to disappoint. It's rather humbling, and Giles makes a note to remember just how much Jack will give him. It will be important not to take advantage of that trust.

"Just breathe for me for a moment, Jack," he instructs, and he reaches once more for the lubricant. More slick at Jack's entrance to replace what's dried away in the meantime, and then a generous spread on his own cock, making him hiss as his most sensitive organ gets its first touch of the evening. It amazes him, always, how hard he can get without even a touch, just from mastering another person, bending them to his will.

He looks up to find Jack watching him, hope starting to flicker in those blue eyes, and he smiles briefly, then wipes it away. "Keep your hands where they are," he commands, watching for the tell-tale shiver, because he _knows_ how much Jack's arms and shoulders must be hurting by now and how much Jack would like to move them. But Jack doesn't protest, and even lifts his legs at Giles' urging, though he'll be feeling that in his abused core too. Giles watches him with pride, and rewards him by finally taking his own cock in hand and pushing slowly, steadily inside.

He lifts his eyes again to Jack's face, drinking in the pain in the blue eyes, and the desire, and the determination. "You are not to come until I do," he says, gruff with breathlessness, and then he starts to thrust. Hard and unforgiving, brutal even, making Jack gasp and grunt and moan, sending shockwaves of pleasure through both of them, until they're _both_ panting and groaning with it, shuddering breathlessly as sensation starts to peak. Giles fixes his gaze on Jack's wide, dark eyes, sharing everything with him for as long as he can, until pleasure forces them closed, just for a moment. He shudders through his climax, glorying in it, and when he opens his eyes again Jack's still watching him desperately, cock still rock hard, unspent, and Giles beams at him and unclenches one hand from the bedclothes, hips supporting Jack's, and brings his hand up to curl around that hard, hard, needy cock.

"Come for me, Jack," he commands breathlessly, and watches in wonder and awe as Jack comes apart – beautifully, completely – beneath him.

* * *

"You know, for someone who has such a hard time letting people in and talking about yourself, you're incredibly open and trusting in bed."

They're lying together, Jack curled up loosely against him, head resting against his arm, the covers pulled up over them against the chill of the February evening. There's a half-empty bottle of water back on the side table and a damp washcloth beside it, and Jack's precious leather cuff is back around his wrist.

Jack turns his head against Giles' arm and looks at him, a soft, wry smile on his handsome lips. "Kink," he says easily. "It gives me a framework, a safe space where I can let go. Besides, you made it easy. You… care."

Giles thinks about that for a moment, and then huffs a small laugh. "Yes. I suppose I do." It's what Watchers do, after all. They teach and they instruct and they watch over their charges, invest in them, watch them grow and learn and in time they – yes – they come to care for them, oh, so very much.

It really isn't that different to BDSM, now he's made the connection.

Jack stirs, leans up to press a light, affectionate kiss against his lips. "Thank you," he says, and Giles' breath quickens slightly as Jack's hand slides down to rest against his chest. "That was amazing. Exactly what I needed."

Giles smiles, bringing his own hand up to clasp it over Jack's. "I'm glad. You were rather amazing too, you know."

"So…" Jack drawls, blue eyes twinkling, "will we do this again?"

"Oh yes," Giles grins, thinking of all the many, many ways he wants to bring Jack to the place he found tonight. "Oh yes, I think we will."


End file.
